


The Woods, the Wolf, and the Darkness

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Body Worship, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Depression, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Outdoor Sex, Psychological Horror, Winter, but it's flowery cause it's Pelle here, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Would you write Midsommar fics? Pelle got me sweatingA/N: After reading all the Midsommar fics I could a while back, I can say now that 'YES' I would write some Pelle and I have. Please enjoy. I don't think there are many warnings in this one, oddly enough. <3
Relationships: Dani Ardor/Pelle (Midsommar)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 160





	The Woods, the Wolf, and the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



It’s cold and it’s black. Ebony is everywhere, soaking through skin and sinew. The marrow in her bones is like the gelatinous filling within the folds of her brain. Crisp flowers encased in their ice coffins scatter the field, not unlike the memory of Midsummer and the current stark realism of Yule—the Winter to end them all.

Here, now, is where Dani looks at Pelle across the needles of dying grass and wonders if there was an exact moment where she lost it all—when her sanity snapped. It could be that the ceremonial fire where Christian burned broke her, but nothing is ever so fantastical as that. It’s probably now that she stares at him, smiling so warmly in the cold, black night that she loses her mind. Because now, after months of feasting, warmth, and smiles, she stands amongst the ice and remembers everything as if the cold just snapped her from the dream… and the nightmare... 

They’re all dead.

The open field brightens beneath the moon, though Pelle doesn’t need light to reach her, nor does she need it to run from him… though she doesn’t. Maybe she can’t. Maybe—maybe that’s why he chose her, and he did choose her. This she knows now.

Dani swallows, tasting gentle salt tones of phlegm in the back of her throat, wondering if right now is the moment she’ll make a stand. Dashing out into the freezing lows of Midwinter in the dark of night with nothing but long faded sweats and a soft garment similar to the one draped over Pelle’s chest now…

She’s mad, because what else is that but madness?

As usual, Pelle approaches with kindness, acceptance, and so much love it makes her tremble. Even as her toes throb with frost and her skin tightens in the cold, his eyes burn. In the blanket of night, against the moon, and despite the heat of his stare, Pelle’s eyes shine a spring-water blue. His gaze moves like the lazy current, so attuned with the earth that they run against the low moonlight like a predator stalking prey.

“I thought you might like your shoes,” he whispers as a billow of steam rushes and fades between his lips, “and… perhaps some company. It’s easy to get lost out here. The lights,” he points behind him, “are not as bright as they seem. If you walk off too far, you’ll freeze.”

Dani’s eyes cut over his shoulder, where the clutter of bare branches makes the glow of the community appear dissected—far removed from the buzzing electricity of the lamps and the fires still burning in the kitchen house. No one else has followed her but him.

She must breathe too hard, or too softly. Dani thinks that perhaps she might have sobbed when looking back because his smile weakens in concern. 

He takes a step forward and instead of moving back like instinct begs her to, Dani steps forward. It’s not just his eyes and the baby-soft smile that is warm. His hugs and breath, rushing gently against the side of her face, lay hot. 

“I understand the need for solitude, but you mustn’t be alone now, Dani.”

She wants to disagree but she can’t. Everything he touches burns, though Dani presses deeper, trying to disappear inside his arms as he gently clicks his tongue while she shivers; shushing her nerves like a skittish equine. Let him consume her, she thinks, letting his hands turn her in a half-circle deeper into the woods.

“Come.”

Grimm fairy tales warned of things like this. Never trust the friendly wolf who’ll just gobble you up when you’re vulnerable and afraid. Dani pictures that understanding look on Pelle’s face that she finds so attractive—she sees it clearly while his knuckles press against the small of her back, navigating them further into the woods. She imagines that sincere smile of his peeling back to expose dappled gums and sharp canines. The mouth of a wolf hiding behind the skin of a man.

“Where are you taking me?” She asks the darkness ahead of them.

There’s a little tinkle of amusement in his voice when he replies, “I’m not taking you anywhere you won’t want to go,” he pauses for a breath and Dani pictures the gnashing teeth splitting Pelle’s face apart in a grin, 

From behind her, he continues, “I used to go to this place with the other children when I was small. In the summer it’s really quite beautiful, but… well, you’ll see.”

“Wait,” he stops them and Dani forgets to breathe until he speaks again, “Nearly forgot your shoes.”

He hands them to her and Dani slips them on while his palm on her spine stabilizes her. Toes warming, she follows him side by side, falling under his spell with every low tree branch he pulls out of her path—every hand he offers when the earth dips or rises too sharply in the dark. The wolf she fears gradually devolves into a loyal hound, keeping its world safe and sound.

She can’t help but smile, even as the cold blister of anxiety and fear grows hand beneath her lungs. They walk and walk, and walk some more until the forest clears and a blue-tinged mound of stone stares with drooping windows and a screaming doorway. It’s the foundation of some old dwelling. Bigger than a hut, but smaller than the communal quarters back at the Hårga site. Even in such a sunken state, there’s something magical about it. 

“There’s a stream that flows behind it during summer. We would grab fish with our bare hands and bathe in the water. It used to be for women during their cycle,” he pauses to chuckle lightly, the wolf-smile melted, “I guess they got tired of the men being… well, men, I suppose.”

Pelle exhales a little laugh and looks over at her, “I don’t blame them. Sometimes they get on my nerves too.”

Dani tries to smile but for some reason the openness makes her feel vulnerable; naked. It’s as if someone or something is watching her. The thin, dark trees provide many places that one might hide. Someone could see everything and she’d never know.

“Who else knows about this place?” She asks, feeling more cold than before.

“Everyone,” he tells her proudly, “This place has been here for hundreds of years. I don’t think even the elders know how old it is.”

She’s too cold and too on edge to wait for him to show her what he intended to. So she turns to him and blurts, “Why did you bring me here, Pelle?”

He doesn’t look offended, nor does he seem surprised. In fact, the smile on his face merely deepens into something so serene—so happy, Dani can’t help but feel resentment.

“Follow me,” and he takes her hand. As always the contact is electric, almost unreal. Just like his kiss during Midsummer, just like his constant brushes and physical gestures of friendliness… and the hug she fell into earlier, everything about Pelle carries a charm that’s dangerous. Dani shouldn’t trust it, but she does.

“We’re not going inside, are we?”

Pelle smiles over his shoulder, “There isn’t much to see in there. I think a Goat Willow is growing there now. No,” she is pulled along as if they’re both children looking for golden coins in the forest, “what I want to show you is just around the corner.”

They pass a wall that slopes straight to the grassy floor, where the moonlight exposes an inner sanctum of winter-dead bushes and a leafless sapling. No grass grows within, only hard, dark earth and dormant shade-flowers. 

Around the bend, Dani spots the frozen over creek. Something about the silence of still water makes the rustle of naked branches and wintergreen trees grow in intensity. 

“What is it?” She stops beside him—hand in hand—and scrunches her nose at the wall.

“It’s a love story. There,” he points to the faded remains of a mural only barely exposed by the brightness of the night, “that is Ylva and she sews her lover Dagfinn a new shirt on the Friday after her blood… it’s umm,” a blush purples his cheeks under the moon, “the timing, it’s supposed to help with fertility, I think. It’s a bit of an old story but it’s a spot for young love or… I suppose it’s like a makeout spot in a way.”

She gestures to a panel, less distressed by time than the rest, which depicts a man slapping his lover with purple flowers. 

“Ah, and what’s he doing to her there?” She asks with wry humor she barely feels for the sinking anxiety that keeps growing. 

“Seems a little theatrical, I suppose,” he shrugs.

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smirks in turn.

Pelle smiles small to himself, looking to the ground bashfully. It’s hard not to feel a swell of warmth when he acts like this—as if the wolf is just a figment of her imagination.

“So,” Dani breaths out a wisp of steam, “is this really what you wanted to show me?”

“Have you taken to anyone yet?” He suddenly asks, still looking to the cold, hard ground beneath them. She parts her lips, but he doesn’t give her a chance to answer, “I mean, has anyone caught your eye? Do you like someone here?”

“Um,” Dani feels herself blush as he had, and swallows new nerves like butterflies in her belly, “... well, I like you. I mean, I like everyone of course. Everyone has been so nice and-“

“I know you want to run away tonight.”

The butterflies die, sinking in her bowels.

Pelle holds her hand in both of his and rests it beneath his ribs where he’s hot to the touch, “I understand how different things are for you here. And…” he inhales like he prepared a speech but what comes out is more sincere than anything her family ever gave her, “I feel a strong love for you that started a long time ago and I know—I know you feel burdened by death… by a shame so heavy it feels like stones in your heart, but you’re perfect, Dani. You are so…” his hands lift to cup her cheeks which are fat with blood, “... so beautiful. As vibrant as all the wild flowers but there’s a sickness inside you.”

“Pelle...“

“Please, allow me to help you release this sickness and I promise you,” his thumbs press against her teeth through her cheeks—his eyes so soft it makes her ache, “I promise you will not want to run afterwards.”

Dani opens her mouth to speak yet she doesn’t know what to say. He waits as if she’ll have some sort of reply, but she doesn’t. She shuts her mouth and gulps again, feeling a ghost at her back.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Oh-okay.”

The mural is cold on her back when Pelle presses her against it. Each breath is icy when she breathes it in. The moist air is tight on her thighs when her sweat pants are carefully slipped from her hips. 

Pelle touches her… and it’s warm.

She knew this is where they would end up eventually. Somehow it makes sense. Dani doesn’t know how that makes her feel but she allows him to trace the curves of her stomach and hips—lets him card his fingers through the curls at her apex and braces herself as he sinks to his knees.

“Tell me if you want to stop, and I will always stop for you, Dani.”

Dani nods as if she’s taking advice whilst balancing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall to her death. She squeezes her eyes shut and thinks of flowers and dancing—of summer and sunshine.

Christian did this only once before. His clumsy touch did nothing but wet the bedspread and leave her feeling wrong for not enjoying herself. She knows it will be different with Pelle, but it’s this unknown that frightens her. Will it be worse or… will it be like Christmas and birthdays, and drugs and heaven?

Intimacy was never her strong suit, but selfless love wasn’t really Christian’s either. Passion was for romance novels and dramas on television, not reality. It just… was never in the cards for Dani, and that was okay. She’d been fine with that but now… now Pelle pets the soft, never-shaven hair across her mons, sighs as if it’s the sweetest thing he’s touched and licks her from core to clit. The sensation makes her whine like an unfamiliar itch is being scratched. It’s almost better than the kisses he plucks down her folds, but that doesn’t last because everything he does makes that rarefied passion rise. 

Pelle’s kisses of worship turn to tasting flicks, parting delicate flesh with each lick. He nuzzles deeper, noses her nerve bundle and sups where she flows with dew.

“Pelle… anyone could see-“

“They would see summer,” Pelle speaks, half-buried and lip-parted against her slick heat, “in winter. An orange vilda in full bloom…” his tongue scrapes softly beneath her clitoris, then presses a smile to her inner lips, “... so bright and sweet.”

Words escape her, so she doesn’t bother to try. Flattery feels foreign even after months of Pelle’s attention—months of the community lavishing her with praise and love. Sometimes, she feels she’ll never grow accustomed to all the intimacy that surrounds her, especially his.

Dani finally lowers her hands to the crown of curls atop his head, feeling between the locks like she could become such feather softness. This, in the darkness of a heavy moon, brings forth a new haze, similar to the tonics they fed her in summer, only this comes from within. The touch of his tongue and bump of his nose drugs her, and Dani takes the pleasure the same way: with a terrified acceptance. 

Pelle smiles against her, presses further between her thighs with thumbs deep between inner thigh and outer labia, peeling her open to run his tongue under her folds… back and forth and then between. 

“Shall I stop?” He whispers in question; soft and unthreatening.

It takes several long moments to realize the subtle pleasure is waning—that his lips merely hover against hers in waiting. 

“No,” Dani whispers back, but it feels like a ‘yes’ in her throat. 

Around them, the stillness of Winter’s night blows through the thin-trunk trees. Like an ominous whisper, it flows in afront to what Pelle brought her here to do...

She’ll never really know if this is what Pelle wants or if this is a trick to keep her here, some honorable duty that gives him purpose. Does he really care about her, or does he do this because the Hårga demand it of him? Dani tries not to think about it, instead she opens herself up with a shift of her ankles, spreading them apart. Pelle takes the invitation like sinking into a meadow of warm, sweet-smelling grass. His heated palms slide around her hips, warming chilled skin as he strokes the bottom edge of her rear beneath the wrinkles of home-spun cotton.

He covers her folds with an open-mouthed kiss, then proceeds to devour her. He’s a wolf on a crimson carcass, drinking down thin arousal like blood, and reaching deeper for more. That unfamiliar passion surges and with it Dani’s thighs begin to quiver. The old stone foundation does little to keep her balanced, leaving Pelle’s firm, molding grip on her hips and backside to keep her steady as he eats his fill.

She holds onto vulgar definitions and selfish intentions for why Pelle lavishes his tongue in all her nooks and crannies, because it’s what she’s come to expect, but her own grip waivers with each happy sigh he leans against her.

Wind-whispers fill the dark air around them. The moon shines warm on her cheeks. 

Dani stares up at the pale glow dropping in and out between the canopy of trees. Stars twinkle… and that whisper of nature drifts into music as the Swedish man kneeling before her sups and moans. He pulls her pelvis upwards, reaching his mouth beneath her sopping flesh to dig his tongue inside. Something about that brings the music into an uproar—a singing chorus. It isn’t until Dani begins rocking her hips over his tongue that she realizes the singing comes from her. The vibrations tickle around her uvula and spill over tongue and teeth into the darkness.

She’s never finished with someone else before. The only orgasms she’s had has been from her own fingers… and she’s afraid. It’s too vulnerable—too naked.

Dani tries to tug Pelle up, but it’s too late and her body wants it more than her mind can come up with all the reasons why not. Body over mind… and so she hitches with a sob as it shudders out like a mile-long breath of relief. All tension burns off her like the sun melts the ice in the heat of high morning.

“...I’m sorry—“ she breaks before she can say her name. 

This pleasure is so unknown to her nerves that she forgets herself. Dani sniffles with each lick of his tongue. With every kiss of his lips and reassurance he speaks into her core, she lets it all go. 

She apologizes nonsensically to her sister, to her parents… to Christian and his friends. She acknowledges her fault plus all the things she took upon herself that weren’t; she feels it in her very being for a brief moment before it seeps from her soul, into Pelle’s mouth, out her fingertips and toes… even into the smooth hands that stroke her naked skin. 

Inner warmth peaks, then the true release brings her bowing forward, drawing the vector of her self discovery upwards so she can wrap her arms around the tufts of brown curls and hot cheeks. Dani hugs him close; trembling. 

Instead of pulling him back up to his feet, she lets him drag her down into the cobblestones and icy grass. There, she cries openly while he cups her face, pushing nose to nose. His gaze is a heavy thing, but even if she doesn’t meet his eyes through her tears, she can still make out the bright smile on his moist lips.

“Release it, Dani,” he urges on a breath that smells like her, “You never deserved to carry this poison with you. None of it is real. I promise you this.”

Poison. Gas. Fumes. 

Dani looks through his compassionate gaze and sees a flicker of dead eyes—a plastic umbilical cord severed at the mouth—and lurches with fear. The hallucination is gone as fast as it came. It doesn’t linger, and Dani doesn’t search for it between the black trees either.

Pelle strokes her damp cheeks and whispers, “We are not our past. The only thing that matters is now… because you are home.”

The wind whistles and sings again, tumbling his curls until the moon lights glisten in his eyes. Dani swallows, still drifting on the high of release, and listens as he continues.

“Come back with me. I’ll make you hot cocoa, and then, I will tuck you into bed,” and, with an almost bashful blush he asks, “May I do this again, later… before you go back to sleep. If you’ll let me. You taste as pure as I knew you would.”

Any walls she erected to defend against his influence have crumbled, much like the ancient foundation at her back. She swallows more mucus from her sobs and clings to him by the throat, gripping the loose tendrils around his ears. If it hurts him, it doesn’t show…

… and when he leans in to kiss her for the second time, it’s slow and gentle. The passion is still there, more so than before, but Dani has a long time to respond and instead of pulling away, she leans in and tastes herself—pure, light… like clean sweat and morning dew.

After some time, after her fingers and toes have grown numb, Pelle pulls them to their feet, cherishes her close, and walks them back to the place she nearly ran from. 

If the dead figure watching from the darkness is her sister, Dani doesn’t look. There is no point in looking back, only forward… and so she steps through the sparkling grass into paradise covered in blue ice, yet throbbing with golden heat—arms open wide to protect her from the cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for those that read and for the anon who sent in the ask! If you have the time, please let me know what you think. I really love Midsommar and all the characters. Pelle, of course, got me good even though that man is his own problem. A big thanks to Escher84 for their wonderful Beta skills! <3
> 
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